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As he looked out across the ranch, memories of the two of them seemed to blow through on the breeze. He could see them galloping on horseback across that far field of wild grasses, her long, dark hair blowing back, face lit by sunlight, eyes bright, grinning at him as they raced back to the barn.

They'd been so young, so in love. He felt that old ache, desire now coupled with heartbreak and regret.

Behind him, he heard first one pickup door open, then the other. The first one closed with a click, the second slammed hard. He didn't have to guess whose door that had been.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Warren hang back, waiting by the side of his pickup, out of the way—and out of earshot as well as the line of fire. Warren was no fool.

"Are we goin' to stand here all day admiring the scenery or are we goin' to take a look in the damned well?" Dana asked as she joined Hud.

He let out a bark of nervous laughter and looked over at her, surprised how little she'd changed and glad of it. She was small, five-four compared to his six-six. She couldn't weigh a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, but what there was of her was a combination of soft curves and hard-edged stubborn determination. To say he'd never known anyone like her was putting it mildly.

He wanted to tell her why he'd come back, but the glint in her eye warned him she was no more ready to hear it than she'd been when he'd left.

"Best take a look in that well then," he said.

"Good idea." She stood back as he trailed Warren's tracks to the hole in the ground.

A half-dozen boards had once covered the well. Now only a couple remained on the single row of rocks rimming the edge. The other boards appeared to have been knocked off by the wind or fallen into the well.

He flipped on the flashlight and shone the beam down into the hole. The well wasn't deep, about fifteen feet, like looking off the roof of a two-story house. Had it been deeper, Warren would never have seen what lay in the bottom.

Hud leaned over the opening, the wind whistling in his ears, the flashlight beam a pale gold as it skimmed the dirt bottom—and the bones.

Hunting with his father as a boy, Hud had seen his share of remains over the years. The sun-bleached skeletons of deer, elk, moose, cattle and coyotes were strewn all over rural Montana.

But just as Warren had feared, the bones lying at the bottom of the Cardwell Ranch dry well weren't from any wild animal.

* * *

DANA STOOD BACK, her hands in the pockets of her coat, as she stared at Hud's broad back.

She wished she didn't know him so well. The moment he'd turned on the flashlight and looked down, she'd read the answer in his shoulders. Her already upset stomach did a slow roll and she thought for a moment she might be sick.

Dear God, what was in the well? Who was in the well?

Hud glanced back at her, his blue eyes drilling her to the spot where she stood, all the past burning there like a hot blue flame.

But instead of heat, she shivered as if a cold wind blew up from the bottom of the well. A cold that could chill in ways they hadn't yet imagined as Hud straightened and walked back to her.

"Looks like remains of something, all right," Hud said, giving her that same noncommittal look he had when he'd driven up.

The wind whipped her long dark hair around her face. She took a painful breath and let it go, fighting the wind, fighting a weakness in herself that made her angry and scared. "They're human bones, aren't they?"

Hud dragged his hat off and raked a hand through his hair, making her fingers tingle remembering the feel of that thick sun-streaked mop of his. "Won't be certain until we get the bones to the lab."

She looked away, angry at him on so many levels that it made it hard to be civil. "I know there are human remains down there. Warren said he saw a human skull. So stop lying to me."

Hud's eyes locked with hers and she saw anger spark in all that blue. He didn't like being called a liar. But then, she could call